Battle Cry
by Strix 4
Summary: "In my entire eighteen years, I've made exactly six promises. In reverence to the lesson, I spend my days letting my body speak first. But there are six people in my life that deserved the words from me." A glimpse into the ever-inscrutable mind of Mori.


_This story is a gift for/dedicated for Reidluver! Hope this makes you smile, sweetie. Thanks again for everything!_

_I do not own Ouran High School Host Club; it belongs to Bisco Hatori._

**Battle Cry**

I don't talk much.

Not because I have no feelings, or because I am continuously indifferent. I think this is a common misconception amongst people who don't know me better.

No. The reason why I so often choose silence over speaking is a simple one. One of the first lessons I ever learned at the dojo was never to say something that my actions couldn't prove. My sensei at the time, a bent and benevolent old man with skin like dried paper, would speak this mantra as he moved among us, adjusting our clumsy stances with calm serenity.

"Words, promises, they can hold power, when given rarely. But use a thing too often, and you cheapen its value. Better to find a way to prove your honor silently, so that your words hold real weight when you choose to give them." I remember those rice paper fingers gripping my wrist, guiding my awkward, little boy body into the correct position. "That is the true purpose behind any form of martial arts. Not to teach you to fight, but rather, to give your movements _meaning_. To help you prove your honor with your body first, before you offer promises that may become empty."

My sensei was a very wise man. I still pay my yearly respects to his grave, although it's been over a decade since I was his student.

I never forgot his lesson. Almost from the moment it was imparted, it became my battle cry. And to this day, I have never gone back on it. In my entire eighteen years, I've made exactly six promises. In reverence to the lesson, I spend my days letting my body speak first. But there are six people in my life that deserved the words from me. I never imagined that there would be so many. For I made my most serious promise as a child, and it was a promise of such magnitude, I thought that I'd never be able to offer more words without cheapening them. Because, from the very beginning, he meant more to me than my own life.

Mitsukuni.

He has been, and always will be, my mission. Not just because my bloodline demands it. But because he would never order it of me. Although my family has served his for generations, something that not even the marriage between the two can dissipate, he never treated me as anything less than a friend. I was never anything but an equal in his eyes. He shared everything with me; his sweets, his stuffed animals, his joy in everything around him. And he did it without expecting anything in return.

He is one of the lights of this world. How could I do anything but vow to make sure he always shines?

I didn't make my promise to him until after sensei's lesson. As I said before, it was only after that that I fully grasped the importance of words. But once I did, I knew exactly who I owed that promise to.

I snagged Mitsukuni on the steps of our elementary school the next day. I got there early, and waited by the curb for his driver to drop him off. He didn't even have time to smile at me before he was over my shoulder and hanging on for dear life as I sprinted down the hallway.

Many people would have been disgruntled by the abrupt treatment. Once I set him on his feet inside an abandoned classroom, Mitsukuni merely smiled up at me.

"Wow, Takashi! You're getting pretty strong, huh?"

I dropped to my knees in front of him. It didn't feel awkward, or uncomfortable at all, even though on my knees, I was still looking down at him. And although I don't think he was expecting it, necessarily, there was no shock or confusion on his face. Those big brown eyes were serene.

"Mitsukuni," I said, and I put my hands on his shoulders. "I will protect you. Always. I promise."

His smile almost split his face. He reached up and patted my cheek. A child's gesture, but there was nothing child-like about it.

"Takashi," he said. "You and me, we're going to be friends forever!" With his free arm, he snuggled his pink rabbit. "Well, us and Usa-chan, of course!"

I offered him my allegiance, and he returned it with a promise of never ending friendship. All of my reasons for serving him can be summed up in that response.

That's the way it was from then on. My mission was to be near him always, to protect and serve him in any way I could.

I never imagined that a single other person could come so close to replicating the bond that I share with Mitsukuni. But I found myself making not just one new promise, but five, and meaning every one.

I proved myself to Tamaki with my actions for a long time before I finally committed with words. Just by being in his club, by wearing his costumes and taking part in his schemes, I demonstrated my loyalty to his cause. But there was a small part of me that always watched him with some suspicion. Surely no person could be that kind, that giving, without having some sort of ulterior motive. It took a while for the knowledge to hit me. But eventually it did.

Of course a person could be that kind. And of course his actions, his benevolence, made absolute sense. Because in some very vital ways, Tamaki is _just like Mitsukuni._ A light shining in this world, full of joy and a strange sort of innocence.

It was hard to offer him my promise. I never thought I'd make another after Mitsukuni. But he deserved it; he still does. So, after one of the many afternoons spent in the third music room, as Tamaki debated with the group (or, in reality, the twins) about what the next cosplay would be, I offered up my words.

"Tamaki should decide," I said, and as always, the sound of my voice caused everyone else to silence. I stared evenly at the bouncing blonde king. "I'll follow you."

Beside me, Mitsukuni let out a giggle, completely aware, as always, of the real reason behind my words. Tamaki's purple eyes shone with pleasure, and a hazy kind of confusion. Tamaki is more intelligent than he lets on. He knew something had just passed between us, but he wasn't sure what.

I had a harder time of it with the twins. In many ways, we're very different. It was their actions towards each other that eventually convinced me. Those two have proved themselves to each other a million times over already. Despite the way they play it sometimes, the bond those two share is actually very similar to what passes between Mitsukuni and I. And it was my respect for that bond that won my words in the end. But my promise to them wasn't so much a vow of loyalty, as it had been with Mitsukuni and Tamaki, as a vow of friendship.

Out of all the Host Club members, we probably interacted the least. But I found them one day, lounging in the Ouran courtyard. Because of who they are, the twins are always embroiled in some sort of scheme. It's something you have to accept about them, along with the knowledge that they never actually mean any harm. I walked up behind them just as the victim of their latest game let loose a torrent of abusive, skin scraping profanities. I folded my arms.

"Hikaru. Kaoru. Problem?"

My voice, as well as the way I hovered protectively over the twins, shut the boy up instantly. There wasn't a bit of color in his face as he pivoted on his heel and ran away. Hikaru and Kaoru turned, an identical expression of confusion covering both faces.

"Mori-sempai?"

The twins didn't understand, like Tamaki had. It is common knowledge that they only had each other growing up, and so offers of friendship from outside sources have a tendency to be lost on them. But I walked away with the knowledge that they'd get it eventually.

Out of all the Hosts, Haruhi earned my words the fastest. I believe this is because, much like Tamaki shares qualities with Mitsukuni, Haruhi and I also have similarities. We see parts of ourselves in each other. And although she might not have realized it, she offered me her words first. When Mitsukuni vanished into the foliage of Kyoya's water park, she ran after me as I went to search for him.

"Wait, Mori-sempai! I won't let you go alone!"

She didn't try to stop me. She knew that my loyalty to Mitsukuni was too strong for that. Instead, she went with me, despite the fact that her frailer body had a hard time navigating the jungle.

Finding the words for her was easy. Haruhi, by her very nature, embodies loyalty, and selflessness. She is the first person to ever inspire fear in me. I've never doubted Mitsukuni's ability to defend himself; I know him better than that. But Haruhi is so…fragile. Delicate. And she has a terrifying tendency to put her own well-being on the line for the sake of others.

My promise to her consisted of one word, because I knew that she didn't need more than that. Another way we are alike.

"Haruhi."

Just her name. But in it, I promised her my protection, always. And I scooped her in my arms to carry her through the foliage. I'll admit that holding her like that made me wish to promise something more. But that promise had been claimed by others already, and my promises to them kept me from breaking theirs.

Just as Haruhi earned my words the fastest, Kyoya took the longest for me to trust enough. Kyoya is…subtle. I take pride in my ability to read people, but Kyoya stumps me over half the time. Like the twins, it was his loyalty to another that eventually won my admiration. Although he'd never admit, Kyoya is Tamaki's man. And while his other actions might confuse me sometimes, the truth of his decency comes out every time he puts himself on the line for Tamaki's sake.

Like my promise to the twins was more about friendship than loyalty, my promise to Kyoya was one of understanding. Of acknowledgement. It's rare that we ever address each other directly, but during one afternoon of Host Club, I was sent to him with a mission from Tamaki. He looked up as I approached him. Kyoya is always aware. The martial artist in me admires that about him.

"Tamaki needs you," I said. And I put more behind the words than just the order. In my intonation, I hinted that Tamaki needed him for much more than Host Club business, and I also let him know how much I admired him for his loyalty.

And Kyoya's eyes flashed behind his glasses, because he understood my promise of understanding right away.

"Indeed," he said quietly, getting to his feet. "Thank you, Mori-sempai."

Six promises I've made in my lifetime. Five more than I ever thought I would. And so far, I don't feel that I've cheapened my words by making them. Because offering those promises has taught me something else. A new lesson, similar to sensei's. Never saying something I can't prove with my body first may be my battle cry.

But the ones who did earn my words, my promises, became the reason why I keep on fighting.

...

_A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed the story! There's a lot of love for Mori out there-he took second in the poll on my profile. Delving into his unconscious was fun! I was surprised at how eloquent his voice turned out, but then I guess if you're only going to say certain things to express yourself, you have to have a lot of words to choose from. Anyway, thanks for dropping by, and watch for a 'Remember When' update in the next couple of days. Happy Reading!_


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